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It’s the little things

The last time I was in my new place (picking out hardwood floors and arguing with my mom and the floor guy for TWO HOURS as to whether or not I want a cork underlayment [I FUCKING DO]), I counted how many drawers were in the kitchen. Six. Number of drawers in my old kitchen? Two. This made me unreasonably happy.


Oops, I forgot I had this

Um, you guys, I sold the Pit of Repair. Not the blog, the actual pit. Through a series of semi-magical events, the opportunity to purchase another home in da city arose, and I grabbed it with both hands and took it down to the mat. And then the pit sold in a day. A DAY. So that was crazy.

ANYWAY DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS? It means ALL NEW THINGS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT! I’m so excited about this prospect, you don’t even.

The place I’m moving into is definitely an upgrade. Like, there’s a washer and dryer IN the unit. No more schlepping to the basement to discover someone douche nozzle took my whites out of the washer and laid them on the scummy table. 

And it will have all new, shiny, stainless steel appliances that I did not have to hook up. And two ceiling fans that I did not have to install myself. And nice hardwood floors, that I did not have to put in. Are you sensing a theme here?

I don’t know what to do about the name of this blog now. 

Rereading Brings Me Back to My Senses

Boy, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?

After Jeff and I slowly recovered from the plague, I kind of drifted into a state of deep home repair ennui (there were other kinds of ennui, too, like blogging ennui and washing my face ennui). I fixed a couple of things, some more things fell apart (curse you, bathroom door), but mostly I’ve been studying as I am sadly doing the semester of school thing again. It’s pretty much all I can do to maintain my grades, sleep enough, and do what my therapist calls, “self-care.” Basically, doing things that make me not insane. Aka, avoiding house projects.

But, because I have a sickness, my thoughts occasionally creep back towards the direction of Fixing Up the Old Place. For example, I’ve been noticing an awful lot that my kitchen island sucks dirty balls. I think someone, somewhere, decided that putting regular cupboards on the floor and laying a slab of counter on top would do for an island. The result is an island that doesn’t hold shit and only comes up to the bottom of my hip.

It has also come to my attention that my counter tops are really ugly. Wood printed vinyl. With chips in it. And scratches, because since I hate these counters, I should just use them as a cutting board, amirite?

“Surely you can do something about this, right Kim?” says my insanity.

And I was really thinking, hmmm, sure…it can’t be that hard to rip out the old island, pop in a new one, and hey, fuck it, let’s casually replace the counter tops.

Then I reread my blog and now I’m not doing any of that.

The End.


Okay, okay, I’m still thinking about it. I’m just thinking about doing it later, and with more planning, and maybe hiring someone to do it. Now that it’s written for the internet, it’ll happen.

I was good for a day

My vacation was wonderful. Jeff and I stayed in the Bahamas for 7 nights, and were mildly to heavily intoxicated for much of that time. Mostly thanks to the Daiquiri Shack:

And also thanks to the fact that liquor is like half price over there. Beer, not so much. Shoot me the day I spend $30 on a twelve pack of anything.

I got a very nice tan, very badly bitten by some sort of insect (I’m not sure it was mosquitos, as most of the bites took place in bed and the less I think about that the better), and very, very well rested. It was a great break, totally worth the five pounds I gained.

Upon coming home, however, Jeff and I were both struck down with plague. Actual plague. I’m scientifically stating this. Ok, maybe you shouldn’t take that seriously because I don’t even play a doctor on TV, but we’re both on antibiotics now and I blame the grubby children coughing with their grubby mouths all over the grubby plane.

I have a project to show you, once I regain enough strength to take pictures of it and then edit them and post them. All of that sounds exhausting right now as it’s all I can do to push my meth-grade Sudafed out of its tinfoil so such things as voluntarily picking up a heavy camera are kind of on hold.

Here’s another picture of our fun on the island.

I need a vacation

Today I ran over a bird. First time ever. I even double checked my rearview and yep, I slayed a pidgeon or something.

Then I yelled at a crazy guy in a wheelchair because he was sexually harrassing a woman on the train, RIGHT IN MY EAR. I realize this makes me a less than perfectly nice person, but seriously, don’t yell out naughty things about women’s feet at 7:15 AM.

Thank god I’m going to the Bahamas on Wednesday. But also, thank YOU, Shark Week, for letting me know the waters are infested with murderous sharks.

How to Avoid Buying a New Fridge

I really have nothing against white appliances, in fact, I really like my white stove and dishwasher (well, when it wasn’t broken). I do, however, hold a grudge against dirty white appliances that look all dingy next to newly painted, bright white cabinets.

Like my fridge.

Note: I took the door handles off before taking this picture.

Being newly house-poor at the time, buying a new fridge was not an option. Well, I could buy one, but I wouldn’t have been able to afford the food to put in it. So, that made the choice to keep the current fridge. I decided to paint it with chalkboard paint.

 First I removed the handles, then I sanded it, scrubbed it down with TSP, and applied three coats of paint. Maybe an hour, all told, and I had this:

So green! So very green!

After painting, I “cured” the surface by scrubbing a piece of chalk lengthwise against the paint, then I wiped all the chalk off.

 Huzzah! Now I have a cool looking fridge and money enough to keep food in it.

Shower Walls, Before and After

Note: Old draft! Publishing hella late!


Shower walls, before:

Look at this, this shit is PURE GLAMOUR. Don’t you wish you could teleport yourself over the internets and let Calgon take you away?

Here’s a close up of the old shower head. I like how the wall behind it looks like a cystic pimple.

These are the old tub fixtures, encased in a crust of lime and god knows what else. My guess: calcified plague.

Shower walls, after:

SO much nicer. And lookie, new fixtures that will be easy to clean without the need for a small pickaxe. I feel like I could rub my finger down the monitor and hear the tile sqeek. I did a mental booty dance every time I take a shower now. I’m not coordinated enough to do an actual booty dance while showering.

Here is a close up of the new, not tumerous shower head.

Yes, a shower head that looks like it will actually help make you cleaner, as opposed to raining wall-piss down on you!